Dig

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Invoked every sundown, it’s you, painted on clouds

rouging our treasured plain and all who walk it,

[…]

I give you gratitude for time past, time present, time future.

To His Mother, Whose Name Was Maria, Attilio Bertolucci

Translated By Cyrus Cassells

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Étoile (TV series). 2025.

Opéra Comique. Salle Favart.

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As the lights darkened, as the lights of night brightened,

We would try to imagine them, try to find each other,

To construct peace, to make love, to reconcile

Waking with sleeping, ourselves with each other,

Ourselves with ourselves. We would try by any means

To reach the limits of ourselves, to reach beyond ourselves,

To let go the means, to wake.

Poem (I lived in the first century of world wars), Muriel Rukeyser

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Don’t pull the trigger, squeeze it—

squeeze between heartbeats.   

Look down the sights. Don’t   

hold your breath. Don’t hold   

anything, just stop breathing.

Level the scene with your eyes. Listen.

Soft, now: squeeze.

[…]

no wind

can hold me   let me   let me

go   i can see   yes

o aperture o light   let me   off

go off   straight is my verb   straight   

my glory road   yes   now i can   feel

it the light i am flame

Meditation at Fifty Yards, Moving Target, Rita Dove

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And is the heart of youth so light,

Its step so firm, its eye so bright,

Because on its hot brow there blows

A wind of promise and repose

From the far grave, to which it goes;

Because it hath the hope to come,

One day, to harbour in the tomb?

Ah no, the bliss youth dreams is one

For daylight, for the cheerful sun,

For feeling nerves and living breath—

Youth dreams a bliss on this side death.

[…]

It hears a voice within it tell:

Calm’s not life’s crown, though calm is well.

‘Tis all perhaps which man acquires,

But ’tis not what our youth desires.

Youth and Calm, Matthew Arnold

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Tony Gilroy on The Treatment. KCRW.